


Perfectly Marvellous

by JamOnToast



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: F/M, Garcia plotting, Lap dancing, Musical References, Mutual Pining, inappropriate use of a dressing room
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-12 09:00:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29882187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JamOnToast/pseuds/JamOnToast
Summary: Reader stars in a sexy musical and Hotch gets flustered.
Relationships: Aaron Hotchner/Reader
Kudos: 3





	Perfectly Marvellous

**Author's Note:**

> also posted on my tumblr (pumpkin-stars).
> 
> Please remember that vocal rest is important when starring in musicals.

Garcia’s eyes almost fell out of her head as she watched the stage, the local amateur musical theatre troupe performing their latest show. She’d gone along, as she usually did, to watch you perform - you knew she knew, but had sworn her to secrecy (a mean feat if ever there was one), not wanting the rest of the team to discover your extracurricular hobbies.

You weren’t really on the team, per se. You worked in the same bullpen, but your main job, rather than catching killers, was ensuring that things got organised both at Quantico and wherever the field agents flew off to. Basically, it was your job to make sure the pilots knew to ready the jet on time and to ensure the local FBI offices (or as local as they could be) were able to provide the standard black SUVs for the team wherever they landed, and that whichever hotel nearest to the local PD was able to accommodate all six field agents (and occasionally Garcia).

That meant most of your interaction with the ‘main team’ was one-on-one with the Unit Chief, though you considered all of them friends, and were occasionally invited to Girls’ Night on the rare occasions that it wasn’t cancelled. (Pasta Night, however, was strictly  _ Profilers Only _ ).

Garcia had stumbled upon your hobby “accidentally” - by which she meant she had looked into your background as soon as you got your position several years ago, and discovered your participation in musical theatre during your college days (and a grainy video of you performing in  _ Into the Woods _ that an old cast mate had uploaded some years after the production). Each year since, she’d booked a ticket for opening night, which more often than not had to be exchanged for a later date.

You would usually only have a small role for the same reason, though this year - after the Bureau had  _ finally _ allowed you to hire an assistant (not that Anderson and Sharp were bad at their jobs, but they could only help with a certain amount of your work) - you’d landed the lead in the show. And promptly had to ban Penelope for inviting the entire BAU along. Maybe next year you would concede, but now - when you were doing  _ Cabaret _ , when you were Sally Bowles, when you were dancing about the stage in your underwear… having your work colleagues attend wasn’t exactly…  _ appropriate  _ or  _ beneficial _ to your professional image.

But as the Tech Analyst watched you throw a robe from your shoulders, wink at the audience, and reveal a pair of sheer black stockings attached to a garter belt, Garcia knew that the ban you’d enforced wouldn’t - nay,  _ couldn’t _ \- be upheld.

She wouldn’t invite the whole unit, of course not. She understood, having watched you, that your professionalism might be called into question should everyone see you… But there was one agent who  might would unexpectedly find a ticket on his desk the next morning.

As she watched you walk through the audience, stopping to sing a verse directly at one rather flustered man, she grinned.

_ Okay _ . She lied. There would be  _ several _ agents.

~~~

You were going to  _ kill _ Garcia.

100%, no doubt about it.

They’d never find her, either. You’d spent long enough at the FBI to know how to get away with murder, at least for a few years.

She’d promised you -  _ sworn on the little unicorn that always sat on her desk _ \- that she wouldn’t tell anyone. That she wouldn’t invite anyone.

And yet, as you scanned the crowd, striding across the stage during the opening number, you saw them: all seven of them. There was Garcia, of course, next to Morgan, then Reid (who looked incredibly uncomfortable, obviously having read a synopsis of the show at some point), JJ and Emily (who were almost certainly checking out every member of the cast and looked like they wished they’d brought popcorn), then Rossi, and beside him, looking far too  attractive interested, sitting in the aisle seat, was Hotch.

You’d have forgiven Garcia eventually had you not known for certain that she’d booked those seats on purpose. That she’d been the one to make Hotch sit on the end… He was in the seat that you directed a lot of your eye-fucking towards, the seat that a white garter would be flung towards mid-song… The seat you would strut towards and give a lap dance to.

You were going to  _ kill _ her.

But first, you had a show to do.

~~~

Hotch was all too aware of the nature of  _ Cabaret _ , and had been rather confused when he’d entered his office that morning to find a ticket to a local amateur performance of the show for that evening. He’d been even more confused when Rossi had appeared with his own ticket, asking if he knew what it was all about.

Aaron had never been able to sing, not really. Sure, he’d met Haley during the high school performance of  _ Pirates of Penzance _ and he’d been one of the titular pirates, but he’d never been very  _ good _ at musical theatre. As they got older, Haley’s interest in theatre had waned, but he’d always secretly enjoyed it. His favourite album may have been The Beatles’ White Album, but he’d never admit that the rest of his top five were all soundtracks to musicals.

Rossi knew, of course, hence his interest in asking him about  _ Cabaret _ .

As it turned out, Garcia had bought tickets for the whole team, choosing that evening because she knew the only case they might get would be an emergency one - the last case had only ended two days ago, and the team were all due a little break from field work. That evening was the last of that break, and, whilst Hotch had intended to spend more time with Jack, he knew the kid would be tired from school, and the performance didn’t start until 7pm, so he’d have at least an hour to say goodnight to his little buddy before he’d need to leave.

Anyone else who’d had plans was all too willing to rearrange, Garcia apparently offering some extra incentive to them, which he apparently hadn’t needed.

And now, as he sat, watching you strut across the stage in a silk black robe, his dick twitching in his pants, he had a sneaking suspicion that the rest of the team had only come along to watch the both of you get increasingly flustered at the sight of the other.

~~~

Of all shows you could be performing in front of the man you had a not-so-small crush on, it had to be  _ Cabaret _ . Though, you sighed, at least it wasn’t  _ Chicago _ . You only had two sexy songs, both in the first act, and you could calm your blush and frustrations down in the twenty minute intermission before the plot became more serious in act two.

Still, as you donned the fake nun outfit quickly, fishnets barely hidden underneath, you couldn’t help but wonder  _ what the hell Hotch was going to think of you _ after you spent the next three and a half minutes in front of a room full of people in your underwear, two of which would mostly be spent grinding onto his lap.

You liked the BAU, but you certainly weren’t opposed to transferring to another department if tonight went south.

_ Shit _ ! You’d missed your cue.

Darting out on stage (thankfully the late-entrance was somewhat in character), you rushed to the centre of the stage, heavy wooden cross hanging from your neck. Your eyes flickered across the room, small smirk on your face as you made eye contact with a woman on the fifth row.

“Mama thinks I’m living in a convent. A secluded little convent, in the southern part of France.” You sang, “Mama doesn’t even have an inkling, that I’m working in a nightclub, in a pair of lacy pants.”

You flicked the edge of your habit upwards, showing off your fishnets. Eddie, who was playing one of the nightclub’s rent boys helped you slip out of the skirt of the robe, leaving you practically bare from the waist down, just the aforementioned lacy pants, tights, and heels remaining.

“So please, Sir,” Your eyes moved to Hotch, “If you run into my Mama, don’t reveal my indiscretion. Give a working girl a chance!” Eddie pulled the cross from your neck, throwing it to the side of the stage as a group of five girls crowded around you.

“Hush up, don’t tell mama

Shush up, don’t tell mama

Don’t tell mama, whatever you do

If you had a secret, you bet I would keep it

I would never tell on you”

You pushed out of the group, now only in underwear, a black lacy bra showing off your boobs brilliantly, still staring at Hotch as you took a few steps to the edge of the stage,

“I’m breaking every promise that I gave her,

So won’t you kindly do a girl a great big favour?

And please, my sweet potat-er,

Keep this from my Mater.

Though my dance is not against the law!”

Moving to ‘whisper’ to the front row, you sang, “You can tell my papa, that’s alright, cause he comes in here every night,” at that, you waved at Rossi, “But don’t tell mama what you saw.”

The chorus girls sang with you then, drawing most of the audience’s attention as they danced on the stage.

“Mama thinks I’m on a tour of Europe

With a couple of my school chums

And a lady chaperone

Mama

Doesn’t even have an inkling

That I left them all in Antwerp

And I’m touring on my own”

You made your way up the steps, getting level to the row the team was sat on before the light fell back on you. 

“So please sir,” You bent to Hotch’s ear, “If you run into my mama, don’t reveal my indiscretion” you grabbed his chin, tilting his face up to yours, determinedly ignoring Morgan’s hollers. “Just leave well enough alone!” You sang into his face, lips just inches from yours. A moment later, you spun around, putting your back to him, hands on the edges of his armrests.

“Hush up, don’t tell mama

Shush up, don’t tell mama

Don’t tell mama, whatever you do

If you had a secret, you bet I would keep it

I would never tell on you!”

You weren’t supposed to direct the song completely to Hotch - Billy, the actor playing your love interest Cliff, was three rows in front, pretending to be an audience member for the song’s duration, and you knew you should’ve moved down to him, but Hotch’s hands had fallen to your hips, his strong fingers digging in, making it harder for you to remember the lyrics, but you were trying your best to focus on anything other than  _ the way his thumbs were rubbing up and down on your bare skin _ … he was technically your boss, you shouldn’t be doing this… but he didn’t seem to mind…

_ Fuck _ , you were in trouble.

You turned back to him, the next line having a little more meaning than usual, “You wouldn’t want to get me in a pickle… And have her go and cut me off without a nickel!”

You swung your leg up, propping it up near his shoulder, essentially displaying yourself to him. “So let’s trust one another, keep this from my mother, though I’m still as pure as mountain snow!”

Your head tilted back briefly before moving your leg again, moving to drape an arm around Hotch’s shoulders, the both of you watching the other with pupils blown wide.

“You can tell my uncle, here and now, cause he’s my agent anyhow”

You waved at Morgan.

“But don’t tell mama what you know.

You can tell my grandma, suits me fine,

Just yesterday she joined the line,

But don’t tell mama what you know.”

You rushed back to the stage, directing the next line to Spencer, “You can tell my brother, that ain’t grim cause if he squeals on me, I’ll squeal on him!”

You were surrounded by cast mates again as they slowly redressed you in the nun costume.

“But don’t tell mama, bitte,

Don’t tell mama, please sir

Don’t tell mama what you know!”

Fully dressed again, you turned your back to the audience, head turning to the side to whisper: “If you see my mummy, mum’s the word!”

The lights went dark and you rushed from the stage, needing a glass of water before your next scene.

Fuck.

_ You were going to kill Garcia. _

~~~

Aaron had never been so thankful for the lack of lighting in an audience. He was sure Dave had noticed the straining of his pants (absolutely certain if he went by the growing smirk on his face, the  _ bastard _ ), but it was still a lot less obvious than it would have been had the lights been as bright on him as they were on stage. On You.

He was in trouble.

Sure, he’d had a crush on you since you’d started at the BAU, but back then he’d been married, had a newborn baby, had no reason or desire to pursue any attraction he may have felt towards you… but now? Years later, his wife dead, his son growing up, his bed lonely…

Garcia had to know he liked you - he’d been trying to be less subtle but you’d either not noticed or decided to ignore his advances… He’d hoped it was the first, and now, after seeing how you looked at him - the lust and desire in your eyes that  please God couldn’t just be you acting… 

Fuck, how long was it until intermission?

You had another sexy song before then and if he wasn’t careful he was going to bust the seam in his pants. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so hard.

He really hoped you had a private dressing room or something…

~~~

Exiting the stage as the lights went down, you sighed heavily, rushing up the small flight of stairs round the back of the set to go to the bathroom, needing to cool down after that mess of a first act. Hotch had been staring at you nonstop for the rest of the show, all through Mein Herr you’d felt his eyes on you. A lot of the audience were focused on you, admittedly - you were centre stage, draped over a chair, legs akimbo… but never before had an audience member’s gaze affected you so much.

You knew exactly where he was, you could feel him watching your every move - you felt like an unsub in an interrogation, his darkened eyes focused on every movement, every nuance of your body and your voice, every inch of him focused on every inch of you…

_ And you were only halfway through the goddamn show. _

“You can’t come back here, Sir.” Eddie’s voice floated up the stairwell as you left the bathroom a few minutes later, “I don’t care about your credentials.”

Frowning, you rounded the top of the steps, stopping short as you saw Hotch trying to get through.

“It’s okay, Ed.” You excused, “He’s with me.”

Eddie looked you up and down, “Fifteen minutes, remember?”

You laughed, “Just because you make inappropriate use of your dressing room doesn’t mean we all do. Hotch is sort of my boss.”

“Oh.” Eddie grinned, looking him up and down. “Kinky.”

Hotch blushed.

You chose to ignore it for the moment, going back down the steps and guiding the unit chief down the small corridor that led to the ‘dressing rooms’ - they were, in effect, glorified storage closets, but your theatre troupe made do.

Leading him into the room labeled with your name, you steeled yourself as he shut the door, back pressed against the wall as the only way to fit you both (and your desk and mirror) semi-comfortably.

“Listen, Hotch, I’m… I’m really sorry about…” You cleared your throat, “It’s entirely inappropriate, and I… I don’t want to blame Garcia, but I’m pretty sure she booked those seats deliberately because she knows that I-”

You stopped yourself. Blood rushed to your cheeks.

Hotch cleared his throat too. “Garcia made me sit on the aisle. She… she knows that I… like you, as much as I’m hoping you like me.”

Your eyes widened, “Hotch, I-”

“Aaron, please.” He corrected, “At least outside of work, I… At least after what’s happened tonight.”

You whet your lips. “Aaron. This should never have happened.”

“I agree.” He nodded.

“I can… I can put in for a transfer in the morning, there’s no way to continue a professional relationship after this, I-”

“Stop.” He reached for you. “I don’t care about professionalism right now. Just… Just tell me if I’m wrong to think you feel the same?”

“How do you feel?” You frowned.

“Like I don’t want you to give a lap dance to anyone except for me. I don’t want you to look at another man in the way you stared at me during that song. I want to be the only man to make you feel that way. I want… I want to buy you flowers and take you to dinner, and congratulate you on how well you perform both here and at work, and,  _ fuck _ … Y/N… This should never have happened like this, but I’m glad it has. I just want you.”

“A-Aaron…” You stared at him, the intensity of his gaze hitting you right in the chest, “You’re not wrong.”

He surged forward, hands cupping your cheeks as he pulled you into a kiss, chaste at first, but as you gained confidence, a hand resting on his chest, you trailed your tongue against his lips hesitantly. His tongue met yours then, both of you opening your mouths for the other, frantically trying to convey the feelings you’d hidden from each other for the last few years.

You’d liked him since you’d got the job, he’d liked you almost as long - but only admitted it to himself a few months after Haley had died.  _ Fuck, don’t think about Haley now, Christ! _ He pulled away from you, both breathless.

“Are… Do we…?” You frowned. “I wanna…”

“You think I appreciate being made uncomfortable in front of my team?” He stared at you, eyes alight.

“I’m sorry,” You stared back, eyes flickering down to his crotch, “Do you want me to make you less uncomfortable, Sir?”

He groaned, “Do we have time?”

You shrugged, “There‘s a lot we can do in ten minutes. And I can’t really let you walk back to your seat like that.” Your hands reached for his belt, “You don’t know how often I’ve thought about this,” you locked eyes with him, undoing his buckle and unzipping his flies. He sucked in a breath as your palm brushed over him. “Are you always this responsive, Sir?”

“Are you always this teasing?”

You bit your lip, pulling down his underwear (deciding not to mention the Spider-Man boxers), freeing his cock. “Only when I’m acting.”

“Then stop.” He told you, “Don’t act, Y/N. Don’t pretend with me.”

You blinked, “I’m not, Aaron, I… I just meant… Sally’s a playful character sometimes, I’m still channeling that attitude right now. I’m still me, I still want this. I… Me acting confident right now might help the both of us when we have limited time.”

He nodded, “If you’re sure, Y/N.”

You grinned, sinking to your knees, “Absolutely.”

“We can’t go back, we can’t pretend this didn’t happen-“ his breath hitched, watching you as you kissed his tip.

“I think Garcia knew that when she booked your ticket.” You commented, “Remind me to thank her later?”

He was about to respond, but any and all coherent thoughts died on his tongue as you took him into your mouth. “Oh fuck…” he gasped, hand falling to your hair, knees quivering as he tried to stay upright. “Fuck…”

~~~

“Two minutes, Y/N!” Eddie’s teasing voice called as he banged on the door eight minutes later, the wood shaking a little, but remaining closed under the weight of Aaron’s back.

“Fuck…” he gasped, “That was…”

“Yeah,” You agreed, voice cracking as you stood from your place on the floor, thumb brushing the last traces of him from your lips. “I don’t know how I’m gonna sing now.”

“If you do well I’ll return the favour.” He bargained, “Fuck, I’ve wanted you for so long, i-”

“Me too.” You smiled, grabbing a bottle of water from the table, “You should get back to your seat, Sir.”

“Right.” He nodded, tucking himself back into his pants, “I should. Um… Break a leg, Agent.”

“Thank you, Sir.” You grinned, turning to the small mirror and attempting to flatten your hair.

~~~

Garcia bounded down the steps after the show as you headed back onto the stage, dressed in your normal clothes, make up removed, ready to head home for the night. The rest of the cast was heading out the same way, most of them having a friend or family member in the audience that night - plus heading out through the auditorium was a lot easier than going through the back of the building, especially at night in the dark, the parking lot out front.

“That was so good!” She grinned, pulling you into a hug, “You were amazing!”

“Thanks, Penelope.” You smiled, holding her gaze as you repeated: “Thank you.”

“Oh!” She grinned, “Oh, no, no problem, absolutely no problem! My pleasure. Or yours?”

“Definitely mine.” You nodded with a shy grin, turning to the rest of the BAU as they neared (all except Spencer who seemed to be stuttering through a conversation with Eddie, both their faces dusted pink).

You blushed under their praise, unused to the attention from the profilers - though they were well aware of your discomfort and backed off a bit. You might have given Hotch a blowjob in the middle of a musical, but you were still a nervous little human, and having six people crowding you wasn’t your favourite situation.

You all turned to the exit, Hotch hanging back to walk at your side, ever the gentleman, and holding the door for you.

“So…” You smiled as you reached your car, “Did I do well?”

“You did great.” He nodded, “Fantastic. I’ll, uh, have to come see it again.”

“Same seat?” You wondered.

He laughed, “well, I can’t have you giving lap dances to strangers, now, can I?”

“Just you, then, huh?” 

“I’d like that.”

Flushing under his gaze, you got into the car, rolling the window down to finish the conversation. “You can follow me home if you want?”

“You should know better than to invite strange men into your home, Agent Y/L/N.”

“There’s nothing strange about you, Sir.”

~~~

“Willkommen. Bienvenue. Welcome.” You grinned at him, leading him into your home.

He smiled, a rare sight these days, though the action lit up his whole face. He couldn’t help himself, after so many years on the job, looking around your apartment he found himself profiling you, learning more about you than you’d ever actually told him.

It made him want you even more, all the little parts of you left out on display… The half empty (or was it half full?) coffee mug on the kitchen table, the bookshelf full of all your favourite well-worn classics, the slightly wilted houseplant you’d mentioned once or twice in passing, and -  _ oh _ \- the underwear you’d left to dry on the airer behind the couch.

He’d taken a little longer to get to yours than you had, taken a minute or two to calm his dick down before being able to drive, then taken another minute to call Jessica and check that she was alright with staying with Jack for later than planned (and possibly  probably until the morning). It had given you the time to freshen up properly, a quick shower to rinse off the remains of the stage make up and grime, leaving you with just long enough to wrap a towel around yourself and run to the door as he knocked.

“Drink?” You turned to him, clutching the fabric to you tightly.

“I’d say yes but I don’t want to wait anymore.”

“Oh?” You smiled, “Am I that tempting, Sir?”

“You have no idea, Agent.” He grinned, “Fuck, I’m gonna make sure Garcia gets a pay rise or something, I owe her so much for this.”

“Me too.” You smiled, reaching for his hand. “You owe me too.”

“Gotta return the favour.” He nodded, pulling you into him and crashing his lips to yours, neither of you caring when your grip loosened on the towel, letting it fall to the floor. Aaron pulled back from you, pupils blown as he took all of you in for the first time, “You’re beautiful, Y/N.”

“So are you.” You grinned, leading him into your bedroom.

~~~

Quite some time later, you rolled off him, collapsing back into the pillows as you caught your breath, Aaron beside you, similarly exhausted.

“That was…”

“Yeah.” He agreed, “Why’d it take us so long to do this?”

“You’re emotionally closed off and I’m constantly anxious?” You suggested, smiling at him.

He laughed, then reached over to you, wanting to keep the feeling of your skin against his. He lifted an arm, letting you settle your head on his chest and an arm around his middle, before his arms wrapped around you, holding you close.

“Hey Y/N?” He whispered a few minutes later.

“Yeah?” You shifted your head to look up at him.

He smiled softly, voice rumbling as he attempted to sing quietly. “I met this perfectly marvellous girl, in this really incredible town, and I skilfully managed to talk my way into her room.”

You laughed, moving up his form to kiss him, “I hope we do better than Sally and Cliff though, Aaron. I’ve liked you for far too long to let you go now.”

He grinned, quoting: “It wouldn’t please me more.”

You shook your head fondly, staring at him. “I think I love you, y’know?”

“I think I love you too.”


End file.
